


you want me to forget you (okay, forget me too)

by dankobah



Series: still learning rey x i only lie when i love you kylo [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abandonment, Alcohol, Angry Rey (Star Wars), Bipolar Disorder, Cats, Celebrities, Chronic Pain, Established Relationship, Exes, F/M, Getting Back Together, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Marijuana, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Music, Musicians, New York, Opposites Attract, Paparazzi, Permanent Injury, Popstar Rey, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship Discussions, Rey Has Abandonment Issues (Star Wars), Rock Star Kylo Ren, Romance, Sad Kylo Ren, Snoke is dead, i only lie when i love you kylo, its called loving yourself and using your material, still learning rey, they write a breakup song together, yes i made a fic with two characters from my other fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-21 13:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankobah/pseuds/dankobah
Summary: Her sobs are painful and crackly, like bad television static.  Green eyes look bloodshot as they lock with his, her nose sniffing and allowing snot to dump down her face.She shouts, ripping at her brunette hair in its middle part, "Why did you leave before I woke up?  You could've fucking kissed me goodbye!"Kylo's hands begin to tremble like he's holding a jackhammer and she goes on to rant, voice pitching up and up as she screams, "We could've had everything together!  We could've stopped the music world as we know it but you had toleave!"Her voice is broken as she then asks, "Why?  Why would you do that when you knew I loved you?"orthe first installment of"i'm still learning (to love myself)" rey kanatax"i only lie when i love you" kylo ren
Relationships: Jannah/Rose Tico, Leia Organa & Han Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: still learning rey x i only lie when i love you kylo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208537
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	1. had the saddest pair of eyes that you ever seen

**Author's Note:**

> **VIEW BEFORE READING: a quick note from the author before we begin!**  
>  hi, welcome to my fic with characters from two separate fics being paired together for my sick fucking amusement. fun fact, i have always (since the creation of [still learning rey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760542)), shipped her with [i only lie when i love you kylo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033458/chapters/34851065). i don't write a ton of fic and material to just use it once, so im simply getting my use out of these characters ive put work into. you don't necessarily need to read both fics to know what's up given that this au is different, i do a good condensed job in this fic and further will over next installments.
> 
>  **otherwise its tagged above, tags to be added as updated.** enjoy!

Meeting your ex-girlfriend over a “potential collaboration” a year after you foolishly walked out on your relationship for your sold-out world tour isn’t a fun thing to do on a Monday.

Or any other goddamn day in his opinion.

Kylo got the text directly from Rey Kanata herself otherwise he wouldn’t have trekked all the way out to Malibu after a cupping session that’s left him bruised and sorer than when he went in. Every day is plagued with soreness since his back injury, but he’s finding that this extended break he’s taking has been pretty restorative.

He’s able to keep up with doctors and massage appointments, his chiropractor coming to his door three times a week. It’s not without the acupuncture service or cupping woman on the weekends when he needs them. 

He’s eating pretty clean, trying to work out for at least an hour a day, and basically hiding from the media. He (and all his bandmates) have been unwound from their contracts with the corporate hell that is First Order records as of the last tour. Snoke passed away in the midst of the tour, something he hasn’t truly thought through after eight months of existing without his former mentor. 

So he’s glad that Rey is seeing him now, rather than six months ago. 

Their breakup was like throwing a blood bag into whirling blades, spraying everywhere and making everything hell. He wasn’t great in the situation, but he doesn’t know if his theories are correct about why it happened. 

Things with them were good until they weren’t, a frenzied technicolor dream that left permanent hearts in his eyes for anything having to do with Rey. She’s a successful woman for all intents and purposes, twenty-four, and a world-class pop star in her own right. Their “friendship” (because they never revealed their actual dating relationship to the media or fans) was inevitable due to the circles they run in.

They met at the Grammys after both being nominated for Album Of the Year. She won that one, but he was also gladly rocketed into her orbit with a simple congratulations on his part.

_ \- - - _

_ Her gown is red hot in the winners' room like a match struck in the dark that lights a fire deep in his belly. He brushes his hair out of his face, too long for his liking.  _

_ Rey Kanata, someone who he’s seen in the media for most of her career despite being his uncle Luke’s poster child, is a vision. He hates Luke, so he’d mostly ignore her presence until she was nominated right next to him for a Grammy after playing tag with him in the charts for weeks. They released their albums at the same time, something that wouldn’t be a problem for most opposite genres. Except it was a problem, given the virality of both albums despite “differing audiences”. He makes music for “angry men” (he’d argue angry people instead), and she pens lyrics for “sad teenage girls”. She deserves the nomination as much as he does, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting to lose. He swallows as he stares at her, watching her look so bubbly, and swish her skirt around while she holds her three Grammys. _

_ He won one tonight for Best Rock Album, and Caedes is currently having his time with the award before it goes on the awards shelf at Kylo’s house. They all agreed that displaying their accolades in a secure area is the smartest idea, and Kylo’s security system is top of the line due to fans getting a little too close for his liking. _

_ He’s so nervous, knowing he should be a good sport and rub elbows. He hates the act of getting to know his fellow artists ever since getting sober, feeling too brash to live in his skin or mostly judged under a speculative gaze. He’s also worried she won’t know who he is, and he doesn’t understand what the fuss is over Rey Kanata knowing a man like him. _

_ She’s the one who won multiple Grammys, not him. _

_ He sucks up a breath, sucks down the rest of his club soda and lime. A strawberry cough drop sits in his mouth already, needing something to bite down on while he watches the room around him. The lozenge cools his throat and he starts to walk over after setting his glass down. He tries not to be imposing but knows he has to swoop in so he doesn't chicken out. He’s huge and can’t control the way he looms in all black.  _

_ Kylo walks right up to her, and she’s turned to talk to a shorter black-haired girl who he’s pegged as her assistant. She’s the one guarding the Grammys on the couch next to her, a tote bag at her feet and holding two drinks. She’s also the first one to notice him, eyes widening a little bit and tapping his intended target quickly to get her to look forward. _

_ Rey Kanata looks up at him with a furrowed brow before allowing her face to flash with what he pegs to be recognition. Then she confirms his assumptions thankfully, “Kylo Ren? Hi! It’s nice to see you, I’m Rey Kanata, I was nominated next to you.” _

_ Her voice is so nice and posh sounding, given he zoned out during her acceptance speeches to check in on if he was going to lose his shit when he got home over losing another Grammy. Now he has no reason to, given the winner is sweet like candy. _

_ He can’t help but say, “I know. Congratulations, I haven’t ever listened to your stuff-” _

_ She waves it away, “Oh you’re fine.” _

_ She seems to mean it with the evidence of a saccharine smile that he’d pay to cause, “I’ve listened to you. Your guitar skills are super impressive.” She’s too hot to be complimenting him and activating his impostor syndrome. _

_ “Oh uh thank you-”  _

_ “Yeah, I want to learn how to do a really good guitar solo but I always chicken out right before it.”  _

_ He can’t offer it, but it passes his lips anyway given she has the face of an angel and makes him feel a little fuzzy inside, “Take my card, let’s play sometime and I’ll show you some tricks.”  _

_ Maybe he spoke too soon, but the uncut joy on her face lets him know he’s not overstepping his boundaries. _

_ \- - - _

He loved her pretty much instantly from the first time they hung out if such a thing could happen for something like him. It’s hard not to love a girl like Rey when she’s in your basement and shredding on a guitar, and it’s hard to let her go when she tells you that you ruined her life. He gets her google alerts still, but he doesn’t usually check them. The band doesn’t talk about her to him, seeing the infamous texts she sent the day he left her.

He didn’t have a choice. It was his last tour, and he didn’t think to invite her with him. He didn’t want to shackle her to him, to start more rumors about them that they could never confirm to be true.

It was the wrong time but the right girl and the only thing getting him to go to this meeting is that this collaboration could reveal a right time for a rekindling. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t still want to be with her. 

They were good together, like honey and peanut butter on toast with their music careers being the banana slices on top of the entire thing. 

She chose some Latin cafe near her moms’ house, one that he’s sworn she’s brought him food from once. Rey always did nice stuff like that, making sure he was eating and sleeping and also making sure he was on top of his emotions before they could consume him.

They ended up winning in the case of her. 

He parks his Ferrari after fifteen minutes of circling, given it uses less gas and is lower profile if you don’t look at the make. The spot is decent, thanks to the incessant circling. He’s not late, actually five minutes early.

It doesn’t stop him from noticing Rey’s white pearl Range Rover. There’s someone inside of it but it’s not Rey. Rose is sitting in the driver’s seat instead, staring at her phone so she hasn’t noticed him yet. He and Rose were good friends while he and Rey were together, and he hasn’t heard from her for obvious reasons.

He’s probably a no-no in Rey’s life, like other ex-boyfriends that came before. The difference between him and those other guys is too small to matter at this point, but he’s trying to create a Grand Canyon-sized gap between him and her exes anyway. He can’t be similar to them, not when he loves her so much that it hurts.

Rose is probably sitting by to take Rey home or to give her an out if Kylo fucks this up. He doesn’t draw attention to himself arriving at Cafe Habana, opening the door to walk inside the cozy cafe. He takes off his Raybans, glad he wore eyeliner today so he could feel more presentable to her. Rey has to be inside, and he scans the entire room to look for the girl that lit up his nights for over a year.

She’s sitting at a table next to a wall, Fuschia red lipstick smeared onto her lips. She’s wearing a white and black polka-dotted two-piece set, crop top looking more like a bralette. A leather jacket sits on her shoulders, studded beyond belief. Her legs are crossed to show off basic black sneakers that predictably cost more than his beat-up black vans, given her shopping habits. She hasn’t changed at all, and maybe that scares him. 

Has he changed at all over this year? He would hope so, given the amount of work he’s put into preparing himself to be presentable for public consumption. He steels himself, walking right up to the table. She looks up at him and he stops in place, their eyes locking for the first time in a year. 

He wants to sink into the floor because he missed her eyes. Rey blinks a few times and he forces out a breathless, “Hey uh-”

She waves a little awkwardly and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Kylo takes the opportunity to sit across from her, eyes scanning her to take all of her in. She’s avoiding his eyes, looking a little discombobulated before she takes a cleansing breath and refocuses through evident anxiety.

He wants to reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t even do that for himself. “Did you order?”

She speaks quietly, “Just an appetizer.” He cracks open the menu in front of him to consume his head with something, elbow resting on the table as he reads his options. His stomach has a pit in it, so it’ll be hard to eat.

She then says, “It 's queso. You can have some.” Kylo glances up, watching her hands wring on top of the table.

He suggests, wondering if it's the right move, “Maybe we should bypass small talk.”

She nods, seeming grateful for the suggestion. Then she begins what he determines to be a rehearsed spiel, “As you know from my text, I asked you to come meet me to discuss a potential collaboration between us.”

He nods and she continues, “I also asked for this collaboration to be discussed because I need closure after we…”

She can’t wrap her lips around the words she needs to say and it's visibly uncomfortable for her to try to vocalize, so she skates by it. Kylo hates himself for inducing that reaction, wanting to slam his head into the cement curb outside. “I just need closure. I need to write something with you, because you always promised you’d help me write or we’d make a song together.”

He remembers that promise, solid and clear in his cerebrum.

_ \- - - _

_ The guitar wails on the repeated strum, Kylo shredding on the strings with all his might. _

_ He sings/yells into the microphone, his pain inscribed onto the piece of notebook paper on the music stand before him. _

**_I use a razor to take off the edge, "Jump off the ledge, " they said_ **

**_"Take the laser, aim at my head and paint the walls red, " I said_ **

**_I'm crazy, I'm off the meds, I'm "better off dead, " they said_ **

**_I use a razor to take off the edge, jump off the ledge_ **

**_I'm selling tickets to my downfall_ **

_ He’s mostly just fucking around, not wanting to produce anything for the album since he’s just with Rey today. She sits at the controls and soundboard, staring at the laptop they hooked up. A faux iridescent crystal ashtray sits next to her elbow, holding a half-smoked blunt that she’s been working on for the last hour. _

_ She cuts off the recording when he stops playing. “How was that?” _

_ Rey gives a thumbs-up through the window and talks over the intercom, “I liked it. Come listen to it.” He nods and shucks off his guitar, walking out of the booth and right behind her in the office chair. She presses a few buttons and begins to play the verse he just recorded. _

_ Kylo grits his teeth at the sound of his own voice, but pushes through it to dissect the lyrics and see if it works for what he’s envisioning. Rey stops the track and waits for him to make an assessment. He just shrugs to himself before mumbling, “Everything sounds shitty to me.” _

_ She clicks her tongue at him, admonishing him like a child as she stands up and reaches to hold his biceps. “I promise it's good. Maybe sleep on it and listen to it tomorrow.” Her t-shirt is his, a Dragon Ball Z shirt that hangs like a dress on her. They rolled out of his bed this morning to go to the studio in the first place, enjoying these ultimately private and creative fueled dates with each other.  _

_ He sighs, “I guess. We should move on. Do you have anything to record?” _

_ She shakes her head before a flush rises on her cheeks. He understands the reaction when she suggests, “We could write something together.” _

_ For both being songwriters, they’ve surprisingly never collaborated. He never wants to stick himself in her stories to tell, and she feels the same about him and his pursuits. A combined song together would be different; a culmination of shared pain and love that could chart decently well. _

_ If only his brain weren’t suddenly so fried just thinking about writing more lyrics today. He gives a sheepish look and she quickly recovers, “I mean maybe not today, but promise me that we’ll make a song with both of us? Please?” _

_ Her puppy eyes make him nod his head. “Yes. We will.” _

_ He knows he can guarantee that, and he kisses her on the mouth to seal it. _

_ \- - - _

Her eyes are wet, and Kylo knows he did a number on her by coming here. He needs to stay though, watching her compose once more.

“Please. Just closure.”

His brain feels like it's trapped in tar, thoughts sticking badly together. His mouth moves, “Yeah. We should.”

He doesn’t think through the idea that comes out of his mouth next, mainly because he’s thought it through before. “I had a plan to take you somewhere and seclude us to write something after my tour.”

That makes her look up from the table and he keeps talking, “Would you be okay with that? If I planned that for sometime next week? One last hurrah?” He knows his schedule is empty compared to hers, so he’s willing to work with her. This also seems urgent to her, so he wants to be prompt with it.

She nods, “I can move things around. I think that’ll work.” Her sniffle hurts him personally, and he hates being the cause.

He says, to reassure himself mostly, “I won’t disappoint you.”

Her whimper doesn't help, “God, I hope not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh these two are gonna be good. leave a comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> work title is inspired by ["forget me too" by machine gun kelly (feat halsey)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tn6nWYNK3Q). chapter title is inspired by ["mars" by YUNGBLUD](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMA171qWYZk)
> 
> [the fic playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3AhbTIredeTPX2IIJi3sTQ?si=vRZLUQd1RzCFydJ9-UznnQ)
> 
> chapter resources (linked below)  
> [rey's grammys gown](https://www.teutamatoshi.com/products/cerise-blush?_pos=52&_sid=8a17b0e6c&_ss=r)  
> [kylo's ferrari](https://www.ferrari.com/en-US/auto/ferrari-roma)  
> [rey's range rover](https://www.landroverusa.com/vehicles/range-rover/exterior-gallery.html)  
> [cafe habana menu](https://www.cafehabana.com/cafe-habana-malibu-menu/)  
> [his raybans](https://www.ray-ban.com/usa/sunglasses/RB2140%20UNISEX%20014-original%20wayfarer%20online%20exclusive-black/8056597137225?category_Id=1725710)  
> [rey's lipstick](https://www.urbandecay.com/vice-lipstick-by-urban-decay/ud771.html?dwvar_ud771_color=TRYST%20%28CREAM%29)  
> [rey's two piece outfit](https://www.lucyinthesky.com/shop/monroe-ruffle-set-in-white-polka-dot)  
> [rey's leather jacket](https://www.farfetch.com/shopping/women/philipp-plein-perfecto-spike-stud-biker-jacket-item-14673388.aspx?storeid=11837)  
> [rey's sneakers](https://www.adidas.com/us/ozweego-shoes/EE6999.html?cm_mmc=AdieSEM_Feeds-_-GoogleProductAds-_-NA-_-EE6999&cm_mmca1=US&cm_mmca2=NA&dfw_tracker=24819-EE6999-0012&ds_rl=1257009&ds_rl=1257012&gclid=Cj0KCQiA4L2BBhCvARIsAO0SBdY0DzgbKcEYJnrIPIilk2mue07qUleRmJ6phM-USS760hvc-tO8JlQaAl6UEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds&kpid=EE6999&sourceid=543457011)  
> ["title track" by machine gun kelly (what kylo was singing in the studio)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLTLVVicjEo)  
> [crystal ashtray](https://www.etsy.com/listing/931802462/iridescent-large-crystal-ashtray-faux?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=geode+ashtray&ref=sr_gallery-1-4&from_market_listing_grid_organic=1&sca=1&col=1)  
> [dragon ball z shirt](https://www.zumiez.com/primitive-x-dragon-ball-super-goku-black-rose-versus-t-shirt.html)


	2. i'm doing good (i'm on some new sh*t)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo speaks, surprising her, “There’s only one bed.”
> 
> She freezes with her hand on the bottle. Then she whips her head over, gripping the neck tighter as she asks, “One?”
> 
> He nods, looking deservedly sheepish for his folly. Two exes and only one bed? Was he trying to be funny? This isn’t a laughing matter for her. He holds up his hands, “It was a mistake, I swear-”
> 
> She snaps before he can continue, “Oh that's funny, I didn’t know you suddenly **couldn’t fucking read**.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags  
> there's one bed and rey is upset about it  
> they do sleep in the same bed though  
> emotional vulnerability  
> wounded rey  
> alcohol and weed consumption  
> chronic pain talk  
> reminiscing on a ended relationship

Rey really wishes she didn’t insist on such a complicated plan to get closure from her ex.

Collaborating was her idea obviously, given she just can’t leave things alone. She wishes she could let him go like the previous men in her life, but Kylo Ren is sticking around her cerebrum like an insidious seed she can’t shake. She figures that she’s allowed to air her grievances and be done with it in one song with him, rather than wasting an entire album on their relationship’s disintegration.

She doesn’t know why she agreed to his idea to go fuck off and write a song with him in a destination he chooses (the week after their meeting no less). He’s very persuasive, and she had forgotten how good he smelled to boot. He seemed to have worn Tom Ford Neroli Portofino just for her to their fucked up lunch date, intoxicating her and making her head go fuzzy at how beautiful he’s remained despite all the bullshit he’s put her through.

She had neglected to recall how gorgeous he is, having banned his face from entering her head for so long. It always hurt too much, but finally seeing it again in person made her feel whole for once. This is pathetic, Rose told her as much when Rey confessed her plan to go write a breakup song with her ex, Kylo Ren.

Rey would be lying if she said she didn’t love him still. She feels as if she can’t comfortably date after him, feeling too wrong or letting her mind wander back to his mannerisms or how he seemed to always understand the growing pains of being a worldwide famous musician. She just needs closure to move on, something so rare for people who grew up like them. She needs the clearance to love anyone else again, to stop being hung-up on his person.

She packs for this occasion like she’d pack for a vacation by herself, as rare as those are these days. Rose isn’t coming, just watching the cats and the house while Rey is gone. Rose thinks she’s an imbecile, but luckily she’s not outwardly saying it. Rey knows that fifteen days is a long time to take off from your obligations for anyone (especially her), but she knows that this is imperative for her mental health going forward. 

Their flight is in two hours, and he sent a driver around thirty minutes ago. She assumes it’ll be Chewy, given they’ve shared Chewy as a driver after their breakup. It’s seemingly not a conflict of interest for the man; he never made it apparent that it could be, regardless. She throws in a final swimsuit, knowing there’s a hot tub wherever they’re going if he tells her to pack swimwear.

Then she zips up her sandy taupe suitcases, feeling as if she’s packed too much for the potential destination. She could care less, Rose watching her as Rey pulls the bags from the top of her comforter to the floor. “You’ll call me if things go to shit right?”

Rey nods, “Yeah.”

“Because they will probably go to shit.”

Rey remarks as she picks up both suitcases to carry down the stairs, “Thanks for the confidence.” Rose picks up her backpack with a shrug, a white bag with micro rainbow detailing on the zipper. It holds the essentials like her wallet, laptop, and songwriting journal. She got a new one for this specific song, knowing she needs a fresh notebook for the word vomit she’s about to spew for this track. She can’t start writing until they start talking and dissecting what went wrong.

They make it downstairs and Rey takes the time to say goodbye to the cats. Teedo and Bebe are cuddled up on the couch, a heated blanket beneath them that's plugged into the wall and clicked onto the lowest setting. She wonders, idly, if Kylo misses her cats. He always seemed to love them whenever he was over at her place, but she doesn’t know if he still would.

She misses their little family together sometimes. She misses staying up late and looking at houses on Zillow with him for after his tour ended. She was ready to retire from her booming career at that point, wanting to just spend her life with him and carve out a piece of heaven in this hellish earth. She misses the prospect of moving to the country and laying low for a while, doing their own creative passions and loving each other.

It seemed he wanted the fast life too, and she can’t help but admit that she wasn’t ready to slow down at only twenty-three. He’s ready to slow down, and it seems like he has in his own way. His contract is over, and Luke confirmed it for her when she asked over text.

She has two paths she can take after this song releases: another album era and another tour, or allowing herself a simple break from being relevant in the minds of the media. The attention can consume you sometimes, make you drunk with power until you go to bed at night and feel like no one would really care to _know_ you. Both paths are tempting, but there’s no way she can choose before knowing every avenue.

She straightens herself upright as her phone begins to ring with Chewy’s number. Chewy doesn’t speak, choosing to be mute. Usually, he texts when he’s here, phone calls making no sense unless it was Kylo calling her to say they’re here in the past.

It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Rose gives her one last look before walking away. Rey slides to answer her phone and holds it to her ear with a, “Hello?”

Kylo speaks, “Hey, I’m outside your gate. I’ll help you with bags if you let us in.”

She mumbles while pressing a button on a keypad next to her front door, “Okay. Are we going to make our flight?” The gate begins to open and the Cadillac Escalade accelerates into her large driveway. 

He says as she can hear him unclick his seatbelt in the background of the call, “Yep. Meet you in the driveway.” She hangs up first, to have the satisfaction of doing that for once. He hasn’t changed much since the week before, but she can see the telling sheen of saran wrap taped onto a patch of his chest that’s mostly obscured by an embroidered sweater. She can only see one corner of the plastic protectant, but it's evidence that the piece is big. 

She misses going to get tattoos together. All of hers were tiny ones, wanting to hide them from the world for as long as she could. He tattooed any free space of skin he could, and didn’t explain much about them. She liked that about getting tattooed with him: she didn’t need some grand or sentimental explanation on why she wanted something specific. Tattoos can just exist as forever pictures on her skin, serving as visual memories of good times and bad. 

She can’t help but ask, instead of wasting time on a nonessential greeting between them, “How early did you get up to go get tattooed?”

Kylo is adjusting his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose before checking his watch on his wrist. Then he cocks his head as he does math up in his brain, “Asajj opened the shop at four-thirty, I was there at four thirty-five. I tipped her extra for it.”

Rey nods, liking the concept of small talk for once, “How is she?”

He shrugs, “Pretty good. She’s touring more shop spaces for a second location. I recommended your neighborhood.” Rey can’t help but be hopeful that Asajj would throw her a bone and open a shop closer to her. One prominent disadvantage of dating Kylo is that she’s usually a good thirty to forty-five minutes away from all of his haunts. It served her great in the breakup since she could avoid those streets. She was unable to drive those streets herself for a long time after everything went bad. It felt too awful to look over and see that he wasn’t in her passenger seat.

“Cool, we should get going.”

He nods, and she makes it a point to turn and lock the front door with the keypad just above the knob. Kylo asks as she’s checking for everything one more time, “Is my gate code the same?”

She looks back and bites her lip, unsure if she should divulge such a sensitive subject for them. It could go like, _“I never changed it, I always wanted you to know how to get into my home even when I hated you.”_

Instead, she straightens up and feigns ignorance, “I don’t know. I don’t keep track of the codes anymore.”

He knows she does, but thank god that he doesn’t press on it like a gushing wound.

{🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸}

Maybe he’s insane for not telling Rey the entire plan for where they’re going, but he does like to keep some things a bit of a surprise sometimes.

The essential questions come when they’re barely away from her house, taking a right instead of a perceived left. She looks up from her phone in the backseat and glances to Chewie. “LAX is the other way.”

Kylo looks up from his own phone, preparing to shut down all communication with his bandmates for the next two weeks. They know he needs quiet time with Rey, and this is an individual project for now. They’ll eventually incorporate some sort of credited background instrumentals, but this is his song with her. It’s easier to have just their names on it. He looks back at her, “We’re not going to LAX.”

She looks rightfully confused, “I thought we were flying-”

He answers simply, “Private. I have instruments I’m bringing.” He decided on a private flight for “the sake of his instruments”. He also brought hers, the ones she left in his at-home studio. 

Her mouth drops open and she starts to stutter, “Well I need instruments-”

He reassures, “I brought the ones you left. The electric, and electric-acoustic I bought you for Valentine's Day.” It was one of the last holidays they celebrated together, and it took everything inside of him not to get her an engagement ring. He thought guitars would drive home the point he wants her forever.

She had loved them, but now he can’t help but feel stupid that he thought those would make her stay. She inquires, pulling him from his head, “Even amps? A keyboard?”

He just nods in response to both. She bites her lip, shiny with glittery lipgloss that he would pay to have on his cheek again. “Where are we going?”

He knows he hasn’t told her yet, and he reaches into his front pocket for his vape. Her eyes watch it like a hawk and he offers it out to her. He’s not stingy with his weed, especially with her. She bought her own supply while she was dating him, but he was always down to share.

She takes it with slight trepidation, and he says, “New York.”

She furrows her brows as she takes a gentle hit of the THC cartridge, “Manhattan?”

He shakes his head as vapor leaves her lips, “I rented a cabin in Woodstock. We’re meeting our rental car at the tarmac and driving up there.” She looks briefly impressed.

Then she asks, “Private?”

“Just us on property. We’re near a lake too.” 

She nods to herself, looking a little more pleased and reassured. He wants her to understand that he’s competent in some things, and he’s unwilling to fuck things up again with her. She adjusts her sweatshirt, a baggy black one with a stylized crocodile on it. She’s wearing heather grey sweats in contrast to his black ones, though her sunglasses are the same as his. They’re the olive green lens version of his Raybans, ones he gifted to her when he saw the pair in a PR box he had received. She looks cool, like a model in the nineties that he’d drool over previous.

He dated this girl and he just somehow let her go.

At least he’s determined he’s not infallible in continuing being a fucking idiot in sobriety.

{🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸}

She’s flown private before, but she’s never flown it on his dime.

You’d think after being together for so long that she’d have a few sponsored flights under her belt from his desperation to see her all the time. They always just seemed to be in the same place at the same time, without trying sometimes. New York was as much of his playground as Los Angeles, as it was hers. She owns property in both cities, along with a few other states that she just likes to vacation to.

In hindsight, she’d make reasons to fly to New York. Hell, the one time she had Poe install a long, mauve wig to go act like Kylo’s groupie for a weekend at a small music festival he was headlining was thrilling. No one ever ended up finding out and she could feel normal for once in fake hair and huge sunglasses.

He’d do the same for her too, even going across the Pacific ocean to meet her in Japan when she had her album promotion stop there. The Japan vacation is what sealed the deal for her on their relationship, pleased as punch that he was so willing to fuck up his schedule to gallivant around Tokyo. He’s wearing a sweatshirt he bought on that trip today, embroidered with the red Oni on the front and back of the hoodie.

But a private flight is different, watching him handle every single step by himself is different. She offers to carry things of course, but she’s handed a glass of ice water and asked to get comfortable by a flight attendant. She does as she’s told, of course, settling in a cushy seat as the luggage is carried onto the plane and stowed away. The instruments would’ve drawn attention to them or slowed them down at any commercial airport, so she’s grateful for his correct thinking that she would want to be off the grid during this process.

Her backpack is at her feet, a table between her and another seat. She assumes correct when he sits across from her, shedding off his heavy-looking backpack and setting it at his feet. Then he gets comfortable like her, clicking his seatbelt across his lap and resting against the seat with a little trademark pain on his face.

She knows flying sucks for his previous back injury; life seems to suck in general with his chronic back pain. He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a package of gummy worms. They look to be sour ones, and she holds out her hand for one. He glances up and turns the package to show her that they’re edibles. She gulps and reads the package, seeing the twenty-milligram dosage per worm. He asks, probably to understand the scope of her tolerance drop, “When did you last do edibles?”

She recalls, “With you. Like a month before you…”

She can’t help but trail off, unable to force the fact that he left her out of her mouth. He understands this, recovering in the flipped over and the flaming car that carries their previous dealings much quicker than her, “I’ll give you half of one to start. Can always eat more if you’re not feeling it.” 

She agrees with a nod and he removes a worm from the package. He rips it in half, offering it out to her as he asks, ”Are you nervous to fly?”

She shakes her head as she takes the worm and pops it in her mouth. Chewing it, she continues to speak, “Private is nicer. Not constantly worried about recognition.”

He nods, “I feel that one.” He then takes a few gummies down the hatch and swallows, laying his head against the seat. An idea sparks in her head and she’s reaching for her backpack. She remembers something she ordered when she got her own songwriting journal. 

She asks, “Do you still write lyrics on paper?”

He nods, “Yeah, I brought my binder-”

She pulls out the aqua blue journal with an embroidered crab on the cover that reads “Cancer” in cursive. She bought their astrology signs in journals, and she gets out the terracotta orange journal that denotes a ram for Aries to show him she has one too. 

“I figured having a separate book for this could help.”

She’s understandably nervous about this gift. He’s crazy about his songwriting organization, carrying around a leather zipper binder with guitar tabs and blank sheets of music staffs just for working on a singular album. She does individual journals and voice memos for each album, not understanding why he would need black plastic tabs to separate out every part of the writing process. That was the thrill of him for her sometimes. It was the lack of understanding of his process on occasion. 

Kylo always knew where his car keys and her car keys were though, and he always seemed to know the time without looking at a clock as well. Sometimes he was just a superhero, unattainable in her head.

He looks at the journal in his hand and she bites her lower lip in pure nerves. She bites it so hard it could draw blood on a bad day, but he flips it over in his hand before looking back up at her. His grateful face reassures her, along with his subsequent words, “Good thinking.” 

She smiles in relief, the only smile she’ll allow in regards to him for this hour. Every time he makes her smile is another reminder of a time that he made her scowl or cry in a pure onslaught of bullshit that no psych meds can alleviate after this long.

He smiles too though, a rare and fleeting one that makes her heart jackhammer in her chest.

She could try to blame the edible for the butterflies, but it’s just too early.

{🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸}

The flight is seamless thankfully.

The edibles are too, evident by the relaxation of her face and body as the two-hour kick-in time progressed. He thinks she even fell asleep at one point, throwing a jacket over her head after putting in Airpods that sit in a ghost printed case. He loves traveling with her for quiet moments like that, regardless of the destination.

She makes things easy, especially when it comes down to land in a place she didn't know she was going to. She’s awake and still high looking when they arrive at an airstrip in Manhattan, and his own high has been metabolized by now. Getting off the plane and moving everything into the car does most of the wearing off for him, making him feel pretty sore in his spine.

Rey does help a little, taking her own suitcases. The instruments are the heaviest but he manages with the help of the flight attendant. Everything they’ve brought sits in the trunk and backseat, perfectly packed away for a nearly two-hour drive. She sits in the passenger seat and stares at her phone as he gets in the driver’s side after everything. Everything is packed perfectly, so he can push his driver’s seat back for his 6’6 frame. He drives himself to places nowadays, mostly for dispensary pickups. Two hours is the longest drive he’d have done in a while, and he’s ready for the challenge. 

She’s comfortable in the seat beside him, and he puts his phone in his lap with the directions on the GPS open on the small dashboard screen in front of them. Thankfully they’re not driving through the city today, and he starts the BMW x7 with a rev of the engine. She’s pushing her hair from her face and he presses on the gas to get them out of where their car was driven to.

He likes BMWs for the purr of the engine, the zip of the horsepower when they get onto the highway. It’s a sunny day out, not particularly hot or freezing cold. It’s a good May day, and he can see her relax more as they drive past the city. “How long until-“

He answers, “Nearly two hours.”

She nods in agreement, focusing out the window again. He accelerates, speeding down eighty-seven. He used to take this road to his parents’ place upstate when coming home from gigs in the city so he knows it well. “You grew up in New York, right?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

She then whispers to herself, “I never got to meet your parents, I wouldn’t know.” 

He glances over, swallowing down something else he clearly fucked up like it’s a shard of glass passing down his windpipe. He was barely speaking to his parents during her period in his life, but the Organa-Solo family was cordial for once. She saw that, she probably always wondered what could be wrong with her if she can’t bridge the gap. 

Her mothers liked him when they all met, considering it one of his biggest feats that he could impress two overprotective mothers. He wonders their opinion now, but he knows it's bound to sting worse than a wasp in ninety-degree heat. 

He finds himself answering, to get it out of his buzzing brain, “I didn’t think they would want to see _me._ ” 

His confession gets her to turn her head to stare at him, and he tacks on to reassure, “Not you. I always wanted them to meet you.” She visibly swallows before her face flashes broken. Her shoulders slump, allowing her to hug herself like she's holding a life preserver in stormy seas. He knows how her anxiety manifests to be the Atlantic ocean during a winter storm, chilling her to the bone and pushing her toward scary numbness that barely allows a single vocalization. He’s seen her shut down often, after long days or hard days, or when he has to hang up the Facetime. 

This time she speaks, a weakened half-laugh leaving her lips, “It’s a little too late for that now.”

{🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸}

The edible wears off, but the cabin re-ups her emotional high for a single moment.

It’s light woods and creams, a small cozy living room with plush pillows on the leather couches, and a thick shag rug in front of a pellet stove. There are a few bookcases, even a little reading nook that she can imagine curling up into to pen a hit single.

He carries in their things as she looks around, passing through the kitchen with light grey cabinets and sandy tan accents. She could imagine breakfasts here, avocado toast on a porcelain plate with fresh-squeezed orange juice and cold brew. It brings back the feelings that she could’ve had such a simple life with him if they had kept their relationship from ripping at the seams.

She opens the door to look outside, seeing a grassy and fully fenced yard. There are tall trees, a picnic table set off in gravel. The house is well decorated inside and out, two wine glasses with a bottle of blood-red wine settled next to the hot tub on the porch, the water still. She’s glad to have a bottle of wine to herself, grabbing the neck and walking back into the house to find an opener.

She’s rifling through the drawers, ignoring him pacing the living room like a looming giant. It’s an electric opener, making a low hum as the corkscrew drills into the cork. It stops and she pulls out the cork with a pop.

Kylo speaks, surprising her, “There’s only one bed.”

She freezes with her hand on the bottle. Then she whips her head over, gripping the neck tighter as she asks, “One?”

He nods, looking deservedly sheepish for his folly. Two exes and only one bed? Was he trying to be funny? This isn’t a laughing matter for her. He holds up his hands, “It was a mistake, I swear-”

She snaps before he can continue, “Oh that's funny, I didn’t know you suddenly couldn’t fucking read.” 

He takes the jab gracefully with a nod for once, continuing to speak while she defensively crosses her arms over her chest, “I deserve that, but I still apologize. I should’ve looked further into it.”

She nods, “Yeah. Probably. The couch doesn’t even pull out?”

He shakes his head and she groans, taking in her surroundings now that she knows she doesn’t have a reliable bed to sleep in. She’s mad because it feels too adjacent to her childhood, resembling foster beds that never became permanent ones until her mothers took her in.

She then sighs to herself and shrugs while holding the bottle to her lips, “C’est la vie. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He watches her drink the red wine with no protest. Rey puckers her lips at the dry taste that she’d rather ignore, swallowing the liquid and scrunching her nose. He asks, “Not good?”

She nods, “Not my thing. I’ll probably dump it after I can get my hands on something decent.”

He reveals, “I was thinking about heading out to the grocery store. You don’t have to come, I made up a comprehensive meal plan the other night.” Her brows raise, given she hasn’t grocery shopped for herself in years at this point and doesn’t want to pop that cherry again with him. She hadn’t thought of food at all when she accepted his invitation, just knowing deep down that Kylo would handle making sure she’s surviving and has access to food. It’s what he always strived to do.

She inquires since she has the right to, “What are we going to eat?”

He opens his phone and pulls up a note, scrolling through, “I think we’re doing balsamic pork chops tonight. With arugula.” She hates any lettuce except for kale with a passion, but she eats anything put in front of her. It’s a side effect of growing up food insecure, leaving her unable to be rightfully picky and not feel guilt over it. He’s cooked for her before, mostly on special occasions when he could make time for it.

This is a treat. He then says, “Vodka pasta tomorrow. I’ll send the plan to you if you want so you can veto things before I go to the store or add things to the list.” He’s systematic when it comes to caring for her needs, something Rey still needs to get used to after all this time. She nods in response, sipping more wine despite the yucky taste.

Then she asks, “Can you get me ice cream? And liquor?”

He knows her well, responding, “Already on the list. What kind of ice cream though?” If she were being honest with herself, she could demolish a party size container of whatever was at the bottom of the freezer the longest. 

She replies, “Vanilla.” 

Then she quickly adds, “And hot fudge sauce, sprinkles, caramel sauce too.” 

“Whipped cream?”

She nods, taking a long drink of wine to get her through the rest of the day.

{🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸}

Grocery shopping alone is therapeutic. It gives him time to think and a way to give her space after colossally fucking up the sleeping situation.

He knows she’ll never let him replace her on the couch, rightfully citing his previous spinal injury as a reason why he shouldn’t. She’s too nice to him, even when he accidentally fucks her over. He does get a ton of groceries though, the checkout girl staring at him far too long for his liking. He’s aware that he over-shopped, even bought more reusable bags to boot.

As a cherry on top, he stops in at a local bagel place for an order he placed while in the grocery store bakery. He bought mass quantities of lox, deciding to leave it up to the bagel place to provide the cream cheeses and a dozen bagels. He ordered two sandwiches for them on top of that, getting them both lox sandwiches (capers removed on hers).

It feels domestic, like a balm to his fraught soul. He pulls into the gravel driveway, cutting the engine of the BMW and getting out of the driver’s seat. The trunk rises when he taps it, revealing his haul.

Almost on cue, the front door opens and reveals Rey. She’s wearing a white bathrobe on her shoulders, a baby blue ruched bikini on her body. He’s missed her body, taking a cursory look away as she steps up to him. The gravel crunches beneath her white Birkenstocks, and she views the packed trunk of the car. “You went nuts, huh?”

He nods while examining a tree off in the distance instead of her body, “I got you a sandwich to tie you over until dinner.” He opens the passenger door to reveal the non-descript paper grocery bag on top of a box of bagels. She lights up at the sight, and he wishes he was the reason for the smile. 

“Lox, no capers.” She giggles to herself as she goes and opens up the paper bag, pulling out a labeled sandwich and shoving it into her robe pocket like a goblin with a shilling. Then she starts to gather up groceries, and he does as well. 

Carrying the purchases in goes quickly, Rey lingering to put things away. He bought too much for two weeks, two twelve packs of blood orange seltzer water being the indication that he thought about this too much. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he took grocery shopping for her seriously, wanting to fulfill every single wish and desire she could have.

They put the groceries away in synchronous silence, comfortable for once. He’s become used to being ultimately alone, but being silent with someone else present is a rush he’s underestimated since falling apart. She looks pleased with all he’s gotten, and he sets the box of rosé on the counter. She assesses it before saying, “Very good.”

“I also got you a handle of vodka.” 

She quirks a brow, “I hope it’s one that doesn’t give me a headache-” 

He answers as he puts the plastic bottle on the counter, because he knows her specificity well, “They did have Iceberg. You still like that one right?”

She stares at him and he says like he didn’t scour the shelves for it as if his life depended on it, He maintains casual, “We’re close to Canada. Of course, they would have it.” She’s clearly grateful, picking up the bottle and turning it over in her hand to view the label.

“I can never find this stuff in Los Angeles. Except that one place by your-” She gulps down and stares intently at the bottle instead of finishing her sentence. He knows what she was about to say and he’s not ready for a breakdown so early in the trip. 

“You’re still sober from alcohol, right?”

It must’ve occurred to her that things could have changed since their departure from each other’s life. He shakes his head, “Nope. Haven’t touched any alcohol or anything but weed.” The weed is a medical necessity, mostly helping with his chronic pain from his overuse injuries. 

It’s no small wonder that he didn’t turn to any vices when shit hit the fan with them. “Oh, that’s good. Are you okay if I drink near you?” Kylo always adored Rey because she’d ask before doing things like getting drunk and test his comfort level. Kylo has gotten secure in his place in being the mostly-sober friend, especially when it deals with her.

He waves away the thought that he’d ever care, “Yeah, you can smoke too. My vape is in my pocket if you want it.” She’s still in her bikini so he assumes that relaxing (rather than emotionally dumping on one another) is on the agenda for the rest of the night.

He makes sure to ask as he opens up the fridge to open a can of seltzer water, getting out the cranberry juice for her, “Write tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” She pulls out a cocktail shaker and eyeballs the measurements. Then she slams the lid onto the shaker after scooping in ice, shaking it up vigorously while he cracks his can open, and watches her dump the vodka cranberry into the glass and shake in a few ice cubes for good measure. 

She sips it delicately, “Can you help me set up the hot tub? I want to eat my sandwich and just relax.” 

He nods, opening up the back door for her, “Yeah, let’s go.”

{🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸}

He doesn’t immediately get into the hot tub with her after helping her set it up, and that doesn’t matter too much to her.

She gets to eat her sandwich in utter silence, watching the jets bubble around her and heat her tired bones. Flying and riding in a car has somehow made her sore, even with space to stretch out and no tensions to be perceived. She sips her drink, seventy-five percent through it, and mostly drinking watered-down vodka at this point.

She feels loneliness creep up on her as she finishes her bagel and realizes she’s got no one to sit with. She wants someone close to her, a body to nourish her need for company. If that body was tempted to hold her tight and reassure her that her worries are null, she wouldn’t mind that either. 

He comes out onto the back porch at that moment, reminding her that he definitely has their trademark mind-reading after so long apart. His vape is immediately between his lips, and he pretends to ignore her to stare intently at the outdoor bench. She glances around her for any other options, then taking a deep breath.

“Do you want to get in?”

He looks back at her, vapor blowing out in a thick cloud. She wants to ask for the device, even just snatch it from his palm like she used to. He never seemed mad when she did. His eyes flit to the swirling water and she asks, hating that her words drip vulnerability like a broken faucet, “Please?”

That gets their eyes to lock, and he doesn’t hesitate before beginning to remove his clothing. The studded belt brings back memories of being hungry for him in backseats, the pyramid studding always digging into her flesh when she sat in his lap in skirts and dresses. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss their sex. She hasn’t had sex since him, a world record on her part given that she needs cock like anti-depressants. His cock just seems to be the recipe for simultaneous disaster and rapture, a world-ending explosion that ends up being a big bang to start something new anyway.

He gets down to his boxers, and she can finally see the extent of the line art of his newest chest tattoo. It’s an Oni, resembling the one on his hoodie he wore today. It’s desaturated, waiting and ready for color to fill it in. The Oni holds a scroll in its mouth, and she cocks her head as she tries to examine the detail on it. There’s a thick layer of Aquaphor on top, used to his tattoo healing regime. She’s had to strip the petroleum goop out of her hair before a performance once, but she understands he’s regimented about tattoos. He sits on the edge of the tub across from her. She can see he’s been working on his body, abdominal muscles defined and biceps looking bigger. 

He overall looks more imposing, his torso stacked up with essential muscles to hold his spine together despite permanent inflammation around his ribs. He looks healthier now, and she wants to comment on it. She stays silent instead, draining the rest of her glass to try to wipe away the fog he’s placed over her. He speaks as he sits on the upper edge of the tub and dangles his long legs into the swirling water, “I can’t submerge my chest, so I’ll just sit on the edge.”

She nods, feeling just fine about him not getting in. Rey knows she’d try to crawl on him if he did; she’s aware that it would completely compromise the lesson of their downfall. His vaporizer is back between his lips, twirling his septum ring through his nose. He’s wearing a simple black ring like a bull, and she can imagine cartoon smoke floating from his ears rather than his lips. 

She missed marijuana, going dry since their breakup. “Can I have some?” 

He offers it out without even a question, and Rey inhales in a controlled manner. It’s a baby puff that still manages to make her throat burn just a tad. She holds it in her fist, elbow propped on the hot tub’s edge as she stares at the water. 

She knows the high could be delayed, it could creep up like a monster that goes bump in the night. Rey contemplates not having anywhere to sleep but a couch, and she gets angry all over again. She’s never been good at hiding her frustrations, a fighting spirit punching out of her chest and throwing words as sharp as ninja stars. 

Kylo could match her but also rationally listen to her sometimes. He would let her bitch about things, destroy guitars, or punch the bag in his basement. He’d sometimes throw an electric guitar to her and plug in an amp, telling her to “ _write a song about it, use your anger to your advantage_ ”. Sometimes she would, or she’d just strum to herself to get some of her bad energy out of her fingers.

She just wants a bed to herself.

{🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸}

The night winds down after a late dinner, just how he likes it.

Rey eats the pork chops he’s made at least, managing a compliment about the taste of the vinaigrette. Kylo usually doesn’t go to bed until two in the morning these days, anxious about everything, so he has plenty of time after dinner to himself.

She’s not speaking much and sequesters herself to a leather couch in the living room with her laptop and journal, putting on large sandy beige over-ear headphones. He’s a little jealous until he remembers his own black ones in his backpack, but he heads for a louder creative pursuit at this time.

He pulls out his electric guitar, a glossy beauty that’s gleams with red pearl despite the predictable black base color. Kylo shucks the vegan leather koi fish printed strap over his shoulder, plugging in the amp and sequestering himself in a small bonus room adjacent to the bedroom. It’s set up like an office, and a door separates him from the rest of the house. It’s not ideal soundproofing, but it’ll do as he tweaks the dials on the amp before beginning to strum and seeing if the fresh tune he did this morning held. 

It did, and he launches into an easy chord progression. He usually, much to his dismay, plays Mr. Brightside to warm up his fingers. He decides to quietly hum to himself, pacing around the confined room. He’s missing his band already, sounding too incomplete for his own ears. Will he ever be anything by himself?

He’s not sure, but he supposes that doesn’t matter given he’s “retired”. If all goes well with this song, he’ll finally own an actual stake in something. He doesn’t own his masters yet (First Order is refusing to hear his pleas to buy them for an entire year while they “review” the value of his work). Putting a price on his pain is low, and it was the last sucker punch in the gut two weeks before his tour ended. 

This song with Rey could be something he partially owns with her. It could push him to release music with just him and the band, like how it was always meant to be before messy labels and their sticky hands that want to kill him.

He’s too busy jamming out to hear Rey open up the door, headphones around her neck and watching him. Once he notices her, he stops strumming and shakes out his hair. “Hey, I’m just fucking around.”

She views him with a cocked head before she sighs. Sad Rey is something he can’t stand, and he wants to rectify it. 

“You okay?”

She bites her lip and crosses her arms over her chest in a frustrated and defensive position that he got used to during their fights. “Yeah. I’m going to bed on the couch. Don’t stop on my accord, these things block out a lot of noise.” She gestures to her headphones and he nods.

“Sounds good. Goodnight Rey.” He waves his pick at her and she closes the door behind her, looking too sad for his liking. 

{🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸🎤🎸}

It’s so hard to get comfortable on what she can describe as a deceptively comfortable couch. Sitting was just fine, but laying down to sleep on the leather in a bra and underwear is uncomfortably sticky, to say the least. She just can’t get comfortable, even in her sandy tan eye mask reading “Love Shack”. 

The clock on her phone ticks to two-eighteen when she sighs to herself and sits up, throwing her eye mask off the crown of her head. Kylo had let her take blankets and pillows off the bed, and she rubs her tired eyes as she blearily stares at her phone. Of course, there’s work to be done, but she’s supposed to be on “vacation”, not working.

The house has been quiet for a while, and Rey figured out that Kylo probably has access to the back deck from the bedroom. A barn door separates the rooms, and she stares at it as if it’s made of impenetrable steel.

Does she enter the room and raise a white flag? Does she crawl into bed with him like old times? Does she pretend everything is okay when it’s so clearly hemorrhaging?

She sucks up a breath meant to cleanse, holding it in her lungs as she screws her eyes down at her hands. She then gazes at her high-waisted white underwear, the midnight blue bra contrasting her skin perfectly in the moonlight streaming through the window. Her heart hurts, and not in the way she’d pen a song about. She never wants to invoke this hurt again, this sort of breakup pain that hasn’t gone away despite all her wishes that she could just let him go.

She doesn’t want to let him go, and he’s so good for her sometimes. He could’ve married her and had a life with her. There are obviously still problems: glaring ones like fame and what the hell they want to do with their potential forever. Rey isn’t done conquering the world, but he seems ready to settle down finally. 

Why couldn’t they have met now? She’s available now, arms wide open for a companion to just play house husband sometimes. Is that so bad? She gulps down her sadness and shame like a large vitamin, hoping in pseudoscience to heal everything wrong in her neurons.

She can’t have him forever; he won’t want her forever. She could have his company tonight though, his soft nighttime thoughts whispered into the dark like old times.

That pushes her to move to the barn door, knocking on the door as a type of warning that feels idiotic as soon as she does it. His voice is grumbly, but maintains a soft edge that he only seems to use with her, “Come in.”

She slides open the barn door as quietly as possible, stepping inside the darkened room. A large three-wick candle is lit, sitting in a black and metallic faceted jar. The scents of clove and ginger fill the bedroom, along with a sharp scent of vanilla and roasted espresso cologne that leached into the sheets off his skin. It’s everything she adores in a comfortable scent bomb, and he’s clearly the bringer of the candle due to the aesthetic of the jar.

He’s wearing black sweatpants that fit his body well, lying shirtless on top of a black acupressure mat on top of the mattress. It’s not an uncommon sight, and he doesn’t move as she closes the barn door behind her.

He speaks first, thankfully, “Can’t sleep?”

She shrugs, not willing to divulge just why she’s here yet, “I don’t know. The couch feels sticky.”

He shrugs and simply offers, “Come sleep here.” She’s glad he waves the white flag first, so much more comfortable with the fact that he’s surrendering before her for once. She felt like she always ended up being the vulnerable one, even when the main mission was to extract some vulnerability out of him.

“Okay. But you can’t-”

He reads her mind, blunt as can be, “Touch you? Wasn’t planning on it, given we’re exes.”

She’s grateful for his understanding that this isn’t the time for a wayward touch. She’s not a new guitar he can riff on; she’s a girl he damaged with his actions. Rey mumbles, “I have to go get my pillows.”

He gives her a thumbs-up, and she walks out of the bedroom into the living room. She gathers up her pillows after slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Then she wanders back into the room, closing the barn door behind her. She drops the plush pillows on her side of the bed before arranging them to her liking, Kylo not even attempting to move off his mat.

She slings the backpack off her back, pulling her charger from the front pocket and plugging her phone into the socket built into the table lamp. The screen lights up to charge and she flips it over on its screen to flop onto her back and stare at the ceiling.

She says, as if it’s not obvious, “You’re letting me sleep in tomorrow.”

“I’ll try not to wake you up. I typically workout at seven.”

She’s impressed that he’s supposedly working out again, though his body reflects it now that she thinks about it more. He was getting to the point in his chronic pain and injury that he had atrophied noticeably before his last tour began, given he couldn’t work out as well.

She knew that the unpredictability of his pain, the realization of sciatic damage, and also just overall inflammation made him feel powerless more often than not. “You could join me.”

She shakes her head. Rey loves working up a sweat, mostly through cardio activities like dance or a treadmill, but she can’t think about attempting to work out this week when her emotions are fraught. She’s worked out in more turbulent thought patterns and behaviors, but also she’s trying to allow herself a bit of grace on her “need” to exercise. 

He simply nods in acknowledgment, then cracking his knuckles as he exhales and makes a grunting noise. She assumes the acupressure mat is doing its job, though his face looks vaguely uncomfortable as he sinks a little more into it. She keeps staring at him, mainly because she missed the profile of his face or the boldness of his nose.

She used to trace the bridge of it when they’d lie together after long days. It hurts that those days could end due to their song. Her eyes shut briefly to ward off tears that betray the wrong feeling. She rolls over onto her other side to face away from him, and her watery eyes open.

She doesn’t mean for her voice to shake, “Goodnight Kylo.”

His voice is quiet and warm, “Goodnight Rey.”

She’s grateful that his voice is still comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was very long and i don't know what came over me. hope you enjoyed it, leave a comment if you did because it would make my day
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["the 1" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsZ6tROaVOQ)
> 
> [the fic playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3AhbTIredeTPX2IIJi3sTQ?si=JekpTEA6T3uXZyNhgVGoHw)
> 
> chapter resources (linked below)  
> [tom ford neroli portofino](https://www.fragrancenet.com/fragrances/tom-ford/tom-ford-neroli-portofino/eau-de-parfum#245476)  
> [rey's suitcases](https://monos.com/collections/all/products/carry-on-plus?variant=26451716079680)  
> [rey's backpack](https://www.adidas.com/us/classic-3-stripes-3-backpack/EW4922.html)  
> [songwriting journals (kylo has a cancer one, she has an aries one)](https://www.urbanoutfitters.com/shop/zodiac-embroidered-journal?category=stationery-desk-supplies&color=801&type=REGULAR&size=ONE%20SIZE&quantity=1)  
> [kylo's watch](https://www.breitling.com/us-en/watches/navitimer/b01-chronograph-43/AB01211B1B1/?watch=AB01211B1B1X2)  
> [glitter lipgloss](https://www.patmcgrath.com/collections/lip-gloss/products/lust-gloss?variant=31480948392005#14947812671557)  
> [kylo's vape](https://www.vape4ever.com/kandypens-c-box-pro-510-battery_p11074.html)  
> [rey's crocodile sweatshirt](https://www.wildfox.com/products/bayou-sommers-sweatshirt-clean-black)  
> [rey's sweats](https://tinyurl.com/xaxcn4mh)  
> [rey's raybans](https://www.ray-ban.com/usa/sunglasses/RB2140%20UNISEX%20093-original%20wayfarer%20classic-black/805289126607?cid=PM-FGS_300419-PLA-Smart+Shopping-All-Products-June2019-805289126607&gclid=CjwKCAiAg8OBBhA8EiwAlKw3kinecGjT2Dj3WCML9_yR8xaUyu49Hi2YCcVOIt64nLKGrsGZPiPemBoCOSoQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds)  
> [long, mauve wig](https://www.wigyy.com/collections/long-wigs/products/2021-pink-straight-mini-lace-front-wigs)  
> [kylo's sweatshirt](https://koisea.com/products/the-oni-embroidered-sukajan-hoodie)  
> [what are "oni"?](https://www.britannica.com/topic/oni)  
> [edible gummy worms](https://herbapproach.com/product/gummy-worms-200mg-thc-custom-420/)  
> [kylo's binder](https://tinyurl.com/56s2cfk7)  
> [rey's airpod case](https://velvetcaviar.com/collections/airpod-cases/products/ghost-airpods-case?variant=32681215983662)  
> [the cabin](https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/21266555?adults=2&federated_search_id=4ccacfba-a24a-4468-8044-ed05ef3efdca&source_impression_id=p3_1613765700_6MlZaIE4U%2FvHjfZs)  
> [what bagels did they get?](https://www.themudclub.com/)  
> [rey's bathrobe](https://tinyurl.com/4mvd6u7f)  
> [rey's bikini](https://frankiesbikinis.com/products/greta-ruched-bikini-top-chambray?variant=31595238096965)  
> [rey's birkenstocks](https://tinyurl.com/vh3c4jt5)  
> [what rosé does rey drink?](https://drizly.com/wine/rose-wine/black-box-rose/p61900)  
> [iceberg vodka](https://www.totalwine.com/spirits/vodka/vodka/iceberg-vodka/p/95456750)  
> [kylo's studded belt](https://tinyurl.com/4rxknbyy)  
> [the oni tattoo](https://www.samphillipsillustration.com/oni-mask-tattoo/3j30jvycpnl9vmm72zxuy7u2b81lvd)  
> [rey's headphones](https://www.urbanears.com/us/en/1001887.html)  
> [kylo's headphones](https://tinyurl.com/pzhpj2pu)  
> [his guitar strap](https://tinyurl.com/a6jwy2a)  
> [rey's panties](https://forloveandlemons.com/products/lila-panty-white)  
> [rey's bra](https://forloveandlemons.com/products/gemma-lounge-bra-midnight)  
> [the candle](https://tinyurl.com/9mdnyspt)  
> [kylo's vanilla cologne](https://tinyurl.com/2mrrce3b)  
> [kylo's sweats](https://shop.lululemon.com/p/men-joggers/City-Sweat-Jogger-Tall/_/prod7390343?color=0001)  
> [kylo's acupressure mat](https://gokanjo.com/products/kanjo-memory-foam-acupressure-mat-set-onyx?_pos=8&_sid=14e050a6a&_ss=r)


End file.
